


The Prodigal Son

by ImhereImQuire



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Biting, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Paternal dynamic, Power Dynamics, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImhereImQuire/pseuds/ImhereImQuire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel receives an unexpected visit from a wounded Spike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

His fishnet shirt was ripped and hung halfway off his shoulder. Blood ran down his face, half crusted, but still seeping from more than one wound. It was difficult to tell what lay beneath the crust of gore, there was so much of it. And however skilfully the black lipstick and white-face had been applied originally it was a grey smear across his features now.  Angel just stared at the blonde on his doorstep, and it was only when the younger vampire lifted a blood covered hand from a particularly vicious looking wound that he found his wits.

“My entrails are about to become extrails.  Can I come in?” Spike asked unsteadily.

Angel shook his head, then, realising that this could be interpreted as a no, rather than an attempt to gather his thoughts, he backed away. “Sure. Bathroom’s this way” he said, simply, leading the other to the first tiled area which came to mind. Once you get into the heavy gore that packed around internal organs then it was usually time to buy new carpets.

Spike followed wordlessly, and Angel didn’t need to take a look at the wound to know that it was bad if the blonde was neither trying to show it off, or bitch about it. It wasn’t like him at all.

Once inside the blonde leaned over the sink, grasping it with both hands until the knuckles turned white, and when Angel looked over he saw why. Spike hadn’t been exaggerating, without the pressure of his hands the porcelain was the only thing holding his intestines off the floor.

“Spike?” the older vampire asked, then again, more loudly, when he got no response. “Spike?!” The blonde head raised from the tiles slowly, the act a substantial act of will. “Yeah?” he replied, sounding weak.

“You need to hold yourself together while we get you laid down” he said, running on autopilot.

“Right.” The other vampire was running on similarly pragmatic lines, understandably enough given that he was clutching handfuls of his own guts. “I think I’m ready” he hissed through gritted teeth, and with that Angel tipped him back onto the floor. “Fuuuuuck” the younger vampire groaned. Angel had no idea how far the blonde had dragged himself to get to his door, but it had clearly been a major ordeal. He couldn’t remember seeing him so pale, not since… there were memories of steel cages and starvation in their shared history, the ugly kind that still visited his nightmares from time to time.

Angel got to his feet, throwing open the medicine cabinet, and dragging down the basket of supplies. A band-aid was clearly not going to cut it, but in his line of work he was prepared for more than kitchen mishaps, dragging out one of many thick strips of gauze. “Can’t do it around the coat. I’m going to have to haul you up” the older vampire said.

There was a moment of quiet. “Should have gotten rid of it long ago, shouldn’t I?” Spike muttered, head slumping against the other’s chest.

Angel nodded, and jerked the blonde upward, toward him, ripping the leather upward, “The smell of it alone should have seen it binned in the early nineties, tops.” He wasn’t going to get into the ethics of wearing trophies from slaughtered slayers, as someone with a recently reclaimed soul. Not now. “Now stop being melodramatic. You’re not dying, you dolt, so save your epiphanies for another day” he growled as he began to wrap the bandages around the other’s torso, begrudgingly. “Why don’t you tell me what you were doing” he said, trying to keep the other talking, conscious. He wasn’t prepared for the answer, gasped against his jaw in a breath thickly scented with human blood.

“Hunting”. And with that the blonde’s head dropped, and his body became heavier, a dead weight in the other’s arms.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Angel had never wanted to play adopted sire to an uncontrollable, irresponsible brat of a fledgling. He’d told Drusilla as much; slapped her silly, broken her bones in an attempt to get her to take her responsibilities as a maker seriously, but his efforts had been wasted. Her instructions were so clouded in metaphor and madness that the boy hadn’t a clue how to interpret them, and she seemed more often amused than aggrieved whenever gaps in his knowledge became apparent; more likely to foster ignorance than correct it. And as for discipline… her ‘punishments’ rarely correlated to any decipherable pattern, meted out for imagined transgressions or to fulfil rituals known only to herself more often than not.

He hadn’t been in the market for another fledgling at all, and if he were then the rebellious, excess driven firebrand that Drusilla had brought home wouldn’t have been his first choice, or even his second. If it hadn’t been for the fact that staking Spike would have meant defaulting on the challenge he represented then the childe would probably have been dusted within his first year. But there was something about him that meant Angelus just couldn’t bear to give up on trying to break him. It would have meant admitting defeat and that was never something he coped well with.

Something had had to be done though; and in lieu of any other options it had fallen to Angel to teach the boy the family traditions, how to hunt, how to avoid detection. “If you can’t perform your duties then I will” he’d said eventually, ripping the lad out of her bed after some recently discovered carnage that could have brought death to them all. Angelus had all but drained him dry that night, emptying him of his own blood, then feeding the fledgling his own. “You’re not hers anymore, you’re mine, boy. You answer to me now”. It was an old ritual, rarely enacted, and more symbolic than magical in nature, but it got his point across.

This turned out to be one of many of his unsouled self’s mistakes that he was still paying for to this day.

Hunting, he’d said, as brazen as he’d ever been in the old days, without a trace of remorse. This raised some awkward questions. Had something happened to take away that so recently recovered soul of his? Was the blonde curled up in his bed, passed out in a bloody cocoon which was all that was holding him together a hero –Angel had to admit that he had sacrificed himself to save the world, even if his motives had been questionable- or a monster? Neither possibility would have surprised him.. Buffy had told him about the body count Spike had managed to amass after gaining his soul. What if he’d lost his mind? Or what if the thirst was just too much for the younger vampire, his conscience paltry in comparison. Angel wished he could say that he’d never taken a human life in all the time that he’d had the capacity to see right from wrong…but he couldn’t. There’d been times, in those first few years, times when he was alone, and hungry, and lonely, and the weight of everything he had done seemed so overwhelming that one more just didn’t matter as much as it should. A soul didn’t make you human, make you full, make the demon that animated their dead flesh any quieter.

“Why do I always end up having to clean up your mess?” he sighed, watching the unconscious figure from the chair opposite the bed in the hope that some obvious answer emerged. Spike, for his part appeared to be sleeping far easier than he could hope for today, his face almost mockingly serene despite its wounds. “I should stake you now” he added. God, how many times had he said that to his wayward protégé? Almost as often as he’d thought it.


	3. Chapter 3

Penn was dead though not by his hand, not really, and though he’d set Dru on fire, he’d known in his heart of hearts that it wouldn’t be fatal. She was still out there even now, and he’d never had the conviction to track her down, hunt her, end her existence.  Every life she took as much his fault as hers, of that much he was sure, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her any more than he already had, and some small part of him, still recognised her as family on some primitive level. And Spike was the same. He was blood, and the demon inside railed against taking him out of existence.

If Spike was killing again, he didn’t know what he’d do. If he were human he’d hand him in to the cops, keep tabs on him the way that he had Faith, unable to quite give up on him. But there was no higher authority he could defer to on this one. There was no jail, no judge, no court. Just Angel, alone with the knowledge that he couldn’t allow the other vampire to walk out of the apartment if it would mean that people would die.

By the time that the next night fall came the younger vampire showed the first sign of stirring, and anxious to have him awake and able to answer his questions Angel moved to sit on the bed, placing a hand upon the other’s forehead. Damn, he was cold as ice, and whiter than the pillow he rested upon. “Mmgnh..” the noise was weak, but Angel  seized upon this show of consciousness. “You’re running on empty.” he spoke, in a low voice. “You need to feed.” He let out a sigh, then released his fangs. “I can’t believe I’m doing this for you _again_. When are you going to grow the hell up?” he asked resentfully, then, knowing that no answer would be forthcoming, dragged his wrist across his teeth, tearing the skin until the blood flowed rather than beaded, before pressing it to the blonde’s blue lips.

The younger vampire’s mouth closed over the wound before more than a drop flowed over his chin, and he made a high pitched noise in the back of his throat, suckling draught after draught of older, stronger blood than he’d had in a long time as though he were a thing starved.  Which he had been, or at least the equivalent of it in bloodloss. Spike’s fingers twitched, then shot to entrap the other’s hand in his grip, and even as weakened as he was Angel had to work to disentangle his arm away at the point where lights began to dance at the periphery of his vision. “Enough” he snapped, shaking off an irrational panic. Back in the old days he’d not been shy about using his blood as positive reinforcement, but he never allowed it to get beyond a small taste, dripped into grateful mouths from above, never drank at source. It had never been so much as to weaken him either and, soul or no, he hated the idea of being preyed upon to the point where it had become a phobia for him… even when the one attempting to drain him was too weak to sit unaided. “Enough” he repeated quietly, attempting to regain his composure. “And don’t even think about going to sleep again. You and I are going to have a little talk, Spike”


	4. Chapter 4

He awoke to the taste of blood, old and familiar as sin, and twice as sweet. He didn’t remember where he was, or why his body hurt so much, but that all seemed unimportant compared to the rich, heady intoxication of blood, flooding his mouth. Family blood, he realised. Dark as the sort of chocolates the average man had to hock his car for, thrilling and intoxicating. Jackpot, he thought drunkenly The soul didn’t seem to make a difference, what he was drinking tasted much as it always had, and he hadn’t had this much of it since he’d been ‘adopted’. There’ll be a price, he thought absently. ‘You answer to me now’. There’s always a price with Angelus. Angel. Angelus. Whatever hat he was wearing that day he tasted the same, always worth whatever the price was.

“Talk?” he murmured. Shit, that _was_ a high price, if Angel’s tone was to be believed.

“Yes, boy – Spike-“Angel shook his head. Remember who you are, he reminded himself. And remember when you are. You lost the right to call him that when you walked out on him. That was the point where he became a man, and Spike’d be quick to remind him of that. “Explain yourself”.

There was a moment when the blond tried to pretend he was passed again, but Angel was having none of it, pinching him hard on the bicep, provoking a growl of complaint. “Start with what you were doing last night – hunting?”

The younger vampire sighed. How did Angel found out…ah crap, he’d told him, hadn’t he? There ought to be rules about interrogating someone while he had his intestines dangling around his knees. Made a man vulnerable. “You wouldn’t understand” he said dismissively. Another pinch; so it was to be grade school torture then. What was next, wedgies?

“Try me” the elder vampire growled, tensely. He didn’t want this drawn out, he had to know if Spike had crossed the line, and how far. Please tell me that you haven’t been killing again. He thought to himself, watching the other’s face intently for any sign of deception or guilt. Please don’t force me to make this choice. Not now. I don’t want to kill you. Well, not any more than he ever had. He didn’t want to have to be a champion. Penn was dead, Darla was dead, hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t he earned a break, proved himself enough?

 “I don’t know how you manage it.” Spike said quietly. “How you can sit there with your coffee cup full of pigs’ blood that’s never all that fresh, and look out the window onto the city and see anything other than a hundred thousand ways to satisfy your thirst. How you can have your little friends, and your corporate suits and not go mad.”

Angel ground his knuckles against the bridge of his house and blinked slowly. This was the prelude to an admission of guilt, he could tell., and all that remained were the specifics. His stomach felt hollow, twisted. “It’s hard” he replied quietly, encouraging the other to continue with a gentle nod of the head. He wasn’t even angry. He was just…. Disappointed, or he would be, if he’d expected any better.

“Too fucking hard” Spike agreed. “I didn’t know that it was like this for you. I thought that the soul would be like a magic wand, wave it and all the really awful desires would just melt, and I’d be come out all shiny and clean. But it doesn’t work like that, does it?”

Angel shook his head. Was that what the other had thought? Poor, deluded boy, always looking at the simple option. He was such a child. “It doesn’t make you human, Spike. We still have our demons. All the soul gives you is a choice. A thousand choices, every day.”

“Well I know that now!” Spike retorted, eyes narrowing bitterly. He tried to sit up but the explosion of pain, and sheer nausea kept him where he was. “And I’ve never been all that when it came to self-control. Discipline and restraint…. Never really my thing. Love makes it easier, doesn’t? Love, friendship, familiarity. They make people seem less like food, less disposable. But when you’re alone, and you’re in a big city, then none of that’s there, and all that hunger builds and builds and after a couple of weeks of shutting myself away I just... snapped. A girl bumped into me on my way home from the butcher’s one night on the way back and…” he shook his head, couldn’t even bring himself to say it. “By the time I knew what I was doing it was too late.” he looked away, unable to meet the other’s eyes, but needing to finish. He had to confess it to someone. “She must have only been…nineteen. If that. And I found baby food in the grocery sack she’d dropped. And I killed her. And it wasn’t because I didn’t know better. I was just so hungry, and lost and drunk that holding back was too hard.”

                The older vampire exhaled deeply, trying his best not to judge. It would have been hypocritical, given his own slips in the first few years of being cursed. “I’m sorry-“ he started, but the blond scoffed. “Not as sorry as that baby’s going to be, growing up without a mum. Not as sorry as her parents. I’m sorry too, but I’m never going to be that sorry.” There wasn’t much that Angel could say to that, and the silence stretched before them

“I sat up that night, waiting for the sunrise.” Spike said eventually, sounding matter of that about it. “But I pussyed out when I started to burn. It’s slow, isn’t it? Gives a man a long time to change his mind. But the next night I knew that I couldn’t change what I was. I was not…” he sighed “A big fluffy puppy with dentistry issues. I was carrying a demon inside me, one that could only be appeased with death, and violence. And blood. Not cow blood, not pig blood, not hippo-fucking-potamus blood. It had to be human…I gave up on trying to deny it, and started working on damage control.”

Angel nodded wearily. “What have you been up to?” he asked, not sure that he even wanted to know. William the bloody nuisance, he used to call him, back in the day, a nickname which had never ceased to be entirely appropriate.


	5. Chapter 5

“What haven’t I been up to?” Spike asked, mouth curling up at the corner slightly. “I did what I could to find willing donors. ‘Specialist’ escort work, renting out my fangs to people happy to pay for the privilege. Had myself a website and everything. Then it was sm clubs, goth clubs….playing the creature of the night to impressive young things.”

“I did wonder why you were dressed like that. Didn’t seem your style” Angel interjected, and Spike smirked “Look good though, don’t I? S’the cheek bones. I can pull off androgynous like nobody’s business. And the girls and boys went crazy for it. One in particular…” the smirk vanished. “Beautiful little thing. He went by the name of Alice. Not like Alice Cooper, but like Alice in Wonderland. Always used to wear this black and white dress. Head full of glitter and Anne Rice and a fake id. Pretty as a girl, but hard as nails. Had to be, to dress like that in the neighbourhood he lived in. He was trouble, reminded me of myself as a fledgling. I could never tell whether he thought was trying to get himself killed, or if he just thought he was indestructible, but he carried himself like he could take on the world, and… well, I had a lot of time for that” tears pricked his eyes, clouding his vision with grief and shame. “I loved him. I’ll admit it. I fucking owe the kid that. I loved him but I forgot my own strength. Perfect happiness…makes everyone lose it, at least for a moment, and a moment is all that takes, sometimes. I killed him, Angel. I don’t think I meant to, but perhaps I did and what does it matter? He’s dead, and I’m not. That’s what it boils down to. I stopped snacking on the kiddies in eyeliner then. They’re good kids, and I couldn’t risk another… Alice.” He shook his head, swiping his eyes over and over, trying to clear them of tears that wouldn’t stop.

It was a pain that Angel understood, probably better than anybody else in the world. A pain that he’d never had the balls to admit to anybody. Who could he have told? Buffy, who needed the line between hero and monster to be clear and unwavering? Cordelia, who had managed to convince herself that he was essentially just a man with anaemia, and an aversion to sunlight.? Darla, who would have laughed, and used it against him? And, unable to just sit and watch the other vampire cry he placed his hand upon the other’s, and stroked it gently. “I know” he said simply. “I get it .I’ve been there. I understand. ”

Spike seemed inconsolable so Angel just sat there with him, holding his hand and making vaguely comforting noise and wishing he could tell him that it was going to be alright, that it wouldn’t always be such a trial. He couldn’t tell him the beast would leave him alone if he gave it long enough – it wouldn’t. He could tell him that it didn’t matter. It did. They were talking about dead people, and Angel couldn’t allow himself to forget that for a moment… otherwise he’d start backsliding himself.

The blond always sounded so broken when he cried. Afterwards he always picked himself up, put himself back together, and it was like it had never happened, but it was hard to remember that when he was in the middle of a breakdown. It always seemed to absolute, and permanent when he was curled up like this, trembling and sobbing. Used to turn him on like nothing else, Angel thought; an uncomfortable memory when he was attempting to comfort him. He could feel something stirring in the darker corners of his mind… Spike experienced his demon as a series of hard to control impulses, but for him it was more like having the room-mate from hell inside his head, and Spike’s suffering was waking something inside his head that made him sick. “What happened last night?” he asked; anything to stop the tears.


	6. Chapter 6

“I was getting to that. But I needed you to know the context.” The blonde snapped, going from devastated to indignant within moments. “So I was in a bad way, of all things considered. Alice was dead, and I’d foresworn anyone whom I’d called friend. And then, when I was leaving a subway station one night some prick had the misfortune to call me a faggot, . That one I didn’t even try to walk away from, just flashed him the demon and chased him through the parking lot, and that was the real deal. He was scared shitless and his heart was thumping so fast he’d bled out in seconds, and afterwards I couldn’t quite convince myself to feel bad about it, spent the next few nights playing it back in my head over and over. It was one for Alice, I told myself. One less bully in the world. Who gives a shit, right?”

Angel didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing, letting the younger vampire continue. “It was the perfect solution. Go out looking for trouble, drinking deeply where I found it. Once I even stuck on one of Alice’s frocks for it. I think he would have liked that, a monster taking out the same assholes who’d made his life the fucked up shit sandwich it seemed mostly comprised of. I tried not to kill for the most part, but I didn’t lose sleep over it when I did. Well, you know me… I get cocky, and start looking for more impressive odds, higher stakes, get a reputation… it was eight on one last night, and someone pulled a machete that I wasn’t expecting.

Angel looked at the younger vampire lay out before him, pridefully smirking and could only shake his head. Half his age, and a quarter of his intellect. Some things never changed. “Spike.” He sighed. “You are a fucking idiot.”

It was not the reaction Spike had been anticipating, clearly. “I just poured my heart out to you. Bared my soul, which has not been at home to receiving guests for some bloody time, as you might have guessed.” Urgh, and now he was showing both his age, and his upbringing, which was something which the blond really despised.

“Which you could have done a couple of months ago!” Angel responded. “Fuck’s sake, don’t you think I don’t know you well enough to recognise that you’ve been trying to get yourself killed?” he shouted. “Knowing you, you probably told me that you’d been hunting last night in the hope that I’d do it myself, you…bloody nuisance!”. It probably wasn’t right to start dragging out old nicknames, but it was so fitting. “You’re the only person who can really understand how its been for me, every day, for a century”

“Give or take a few weeks of holiday time” Spike chipped in, unable to resist.

“Not the point, Spike!” Angel glowered. Mentioning the time when his soul went walkabout was hitting below the belt. “The point is…. I could have helped you. I could have stopped you making the same mistakes I’ve made. I could have taught you to control it better. But you’re too proud for that, aren’t you? You wouldn’t come to me until your internal organs have stopped being internal, and you’d run out of places to run”. Why couldn’t Spike respect him that much, as a person with a handle on keeping inner demons reigned in, if nothing else?

“Because I don’t want to be like you!” the other vampire retorted, full of venom and bitterness I don’t want to learn from you. I don’t want to rely on you again, when all you’ve ever done is put me down, fuck me over, or walk out on me! I don’t need you” he managed to sit up this time, ignoring the flashing lights behind his eyes and the flow of blood around bandages. “I would rather bleed out… in a dark alley somewhere… than be your little protégé” he muttered between laboured breaths. Standing was a monumental effort, but he’d spent his life learning how to deal with pain, and if he bled on Angel’s carpet then so much the fucking better.

“Spike, you are bleeding. Lots” Angel said, standing with every expectation of having to catch the blonde. “I don’t care!” was the stubborn response, as Spike tried to move around him. This seemed to be a mistake, as it meant letting go of the bed, and when the blonde stumbled and Angel had to steady him against his body he almost wished he’d put money it. “You’re naked” he pointed out, glaring into the blue eyes staring up at him so resentfully. “Don’t care” Spike said again, through gritted teeth. Angel found himself wishing that he could be similarly indifferent, but given the sudden absence of sheets and very close proximity it was difficult not to care deeply.

“Spike.” He swallowed, trying to curb the hoarseness in his voice. “Look at the clock. It’s almost dawn. You’re not going anywhere, boy. ” he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, but all he did was fill his nostrils with the scent of blood. Bloody, defiant, naked. The part of himself he chose to call Angelus was so close to the surface that he wasn’t sure who he was. “Now sit down, Wi-Spike.” He wasn’t sure how much more he could take, and Spike’s ability to go two steps too far was legendary.


	7. Chapter 7

The look on Spike’s face was one of shock as he looked up at him from the bed. “Fiiiiiine” he said, rolling his eyes. “But you don’t call me boy. Or Will. Or William. And don’t pretend like you’re my sire. You lost that right” it was clear that he realised that Angel was serious about keeping him from leaving, and besides he’d felt something tear when he fell.

Had Angel sewn him up with he was passed out? He was willing to bet that he had, and probably got off on it too. He’d be more grateful if he hadn’t got memories of having his forearms stitched to his knees as a punishment. What had been his transgression? Moving from his post, when he was supposed to be watching… something, or other? He couldn’t remember, precisely. The force of needle piercing skin though, that were crystal clear in his mind, and even that was nothing compared to the claustrophobic panic that accompanied the mere memory.  

“And if my stitches burst _I’ll_ sew myself up” he added. It would hurt like a motherfucker, but he would rather hurt himself than give Angelus the satisfaction. The last time he’d resorted to ripping apart his own flesh in the end and it wasn’t even out of bloody mindedness, just the blind terror of being unable to move.

 “You don’t get to touch me, either. Ever” he added defensively.

Angel focused on the point of wall six inches above the other’s head, unable to meet the other man’s eyes. “Agreed. But you stay here. You heal up. You drink what I bring you. And you stay out of trouble” he responded. Why did you have to tell me no? he thought to himself. He could control himself, but his demon did not respond well to being denied, and it made him uncomfortably aware of how little power the wounded man before him actually had to stop him from… he tried not to finish the thought and failed. He could beat him, or drain him, or fuck him, and a swift blow to his torn up stomach would banish any resistance. The only thing defence the blond had was unconsciousness, and even that would be fleeting…

“I’m going to get you some more blood. Try to rest.” He said shakily. Two steps from door he stopped. “Spike… I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you. I know how hard it was for me, and I want it to be better for you”. He wasn’t sure if it was Spike he was trying to convince or himself, but it felt more certain when he said it aloud, closing the door behind him.

Alone in the hallway he slunk down against the wall. I’m Angel, he told himself. I am not Angelus. I have a soul, and I help people when they need help. That is who I am. I’m the one in control. Now go to the bathroom and take a shower, he told himself. Don’t just sit here with his blood drying on you. Don’t… it was useless though, and self-loathing couldn’t keep his fingers from his mouth. The blood was exactly how he remembered it, smoky with pride and violence, full of fire and fight. He didn’t stop until he’d lapped his hands clean. He could only hope that Spike couldn’t hear the noises that he’d made while he was doing it. That was something he’d never be able live down. How can I teach him to control his demon when I can’t control my own, he thought wretchedly, digging his fingers into his palms.


	8. Chapter 8

Spike heard faint whimpers on the other side of the door, and wondered if Angel is crying or jacking off. Neither one would have surprised him. Whatever it was Angel clearly didn’t want him to see, given the speed he left.  Angel’s self loathing causing him to leave? Fucking typical. Story of his fucking life, should have it on a bloody t-shirt. Not that he’d given him much of a reason to stay. The story of his life’s sequel, that one. Darla sent him away, he thought to himself. I didn’t.

Easing himself back into a lying down position he took advantage of the time alone to give his body a cursory checking over. Limbs all where they should be. Clothing gone. Wounds bathed, and, as Spike had thought neatly stitched beneath the cotton padding and strips of gauze. Angel has taken his time with this, he thought. Of course he did. Angel took his time with everything. Sketching. Torture. Choosing his clothes. Wiping down surfaces. Dressing wounds. It was a good job he was sodding immortal, because it meant that everything took fucking forever.

The upshot was that it didn’t mean anything. The symmetry of the stitching, or the methodical way his body had been cleaned of blood and makeup. It was just pride. Angel, Angelus, whatever his name was… he took pride in work well done. It wasn’t because he cared, just that he hated to do anything sloppily… and when he put his foot down then there was no moving it. Which meant that Spike was going to be a guest for some time, he reckoned, and he might as well make the best of it, at least until his wounds had stopped oozing.

Lacking other options he inched himself onto his side and tucked in his knees, burying his face into pillows that smelled uncomfortably familiar. Been a long time since he’d slept in a bed which smelled like family… too long, maybe.

He found it soothing, and he didn’t quite know why.


	9. Chapter 9

It was hours before he could go out for blood. He hadn’t been lying to Spike, it was almost dawn by the time Angel had got him back into bed, and he was as bound to the darkness as the blond was. Still, there was a small amount in the fridge and Angel finished it cold. Warming it felt like self-indulgence, a luxury he didn’t deserve.

After that he took a cold shower, his skin the same temperature as the high powered jets by the time he got out. Another form of self deprivation; it made it easier to keep his hands off his cock, but it couldn’t wash away the after taste which persisted even after he’d swigged half a cup of pig’s blood.

Dressing required a return to his bedroom, where Spike lay sleeping, which did very little to help his resolve.  Just get in, grab what you need and get out he told himself. And he did… but somehow there seemed to be a dozen perfectly valid reasons to check on him during the day, and each time Angel spent just a little bit longer watching him.

 Damn, the blond could sleep some, he thought, upon return to the house. After a good beating –bad beating, he reminded himself, beatings are bad things for people who have souls- Spike used to sleep for hours, then wake up ready to go another ten rounds. It wasn’t natural. Well, they weren’t natural anyway but Spike abused the privileged. Nothing seemed to break him for long, and Angel gave it two days tops before his old protégé was up and causing chaos once more.

Around ten he knocked on the door, waited until he heard sounds of stirring and entered with a tray. “I’ve brought you blood.” He said matter of factly. “Human, which I had to call in more than a few favours for, but we’ll start weaning you off that when you’re healed.”

“Human, and warm?” Spike asked, taking the pouch and popping a straw into it enthusiastically, all apparently forgiven. “Thank you, daddy!” he grinned, pursing his lips in what Angel could only assume to be an impression on Marilyn Monroe in Gentleman Prefer Blondes and suddenly it was though they were best friends in Spike’s mind. What went on in there? Angel wondered. Was he amnesiac, bipolar or just incredibly cheap? “Don’t….call me that” he muttered. If Spike wasn’t cheap and easy then the older vampire certainly was, because the effect that it had on him was like a direct line to his crotch.

“A kiss on the hand may be quite continental….but O neg is a boy’s best friend….” Spike sang, after he’d sucked the pouch of blood to its last drops.

Gentlemen prefer blondes…. That was what passed for wit with Spike, he supposed, and the message wasn’t lost on him. Darla. Buffy. Spike. He did have something of a type… “Drink the second one” he growled, and Spike blinked. “Thought it was for you” he said.

Angel just looked at him. “I don’t drink human blood. And don’t think I’ll be making a habit of getting it for you, either, Marilyn” he said. “I’m serious, so you’d better savour it, because once that wounds healed you’re not having any more.”

Spike’s good nature disappeared instantly. “It’s a blood pack. Who am I going to fucking hurt?” he growled, eyes narrowing as he tore open the second one with his teeth, and drank it down in one.

“You need to learn that you don’t need it” Angel explained calmly, ignoring the empty packet that was thrown at his head. “Now quit being such a goddamn junkie.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Of course. I fucking. Need it” Spike shouted, glaring at Angel with his more customary hatred. “In case you haven’t noticed…” he pointed to himself as though he were trying to communicate with an imbecile “I…am…a…vampire”. He remembered how it had been when he’d had that chip in his head. Hungry, so hungry, all the fucking time. It was always animal blood, and there was never enough of it, and he’d resorted to some desperate shit just to stay alive. The idea of going back to that scared the crap out of him. And the idea of going back to that with Angel being the one in control of the tap was nothing short of a nightmare.

“I’ve seen you drink pig’s blood before, Spike.” The older vampire said, sounding deeply put upon. “Stop being a drama queen, I’m not putting you through anything that I don’t put myself through” he pointed out

“Yes, but you hate yourself!” the blond retorted. “Angel, I can’t do this!”

“Spike... trust me. I’ve been doing this for centuries, and you have to trust me when I tell you that human blood is only going to make this harder for you.” He sat down on the bed. “I’ve been spiked with human blood before, and…it did things to me. Brings every predatory instinct out, amplifies it. You start to forget that you’re speaking to people, and not…happy meals. If you’re serious about stopping, then I’ll help you, but you have to do what I say. And if you’re not then…” he trailed off, but the threat was there, the elephant in the room.

“Are telling me that if I don’t do things your way then you’re going to put a stake in me” Spike asked, raising a brow accusatively “Again?”

Angel hadn’t wanted to make it that blatant, but if that was how Spike wanted to have it laid out for him “That’s exactly what I’m saying. It was I who trained you in the art of being a monster. You have a chance to change and yes, if you throw it away then I will dust your ass, because my obligation to you will end, and my obligation to the rest of the world will kick in. Do you have a problem with that?”

Spike blinked. “You’re not my sire. You have no ‘obligations’” he said vehemently. “You gave that up, remember?”

Oh, so it came down to that, did it? Spike was going to blunder through his existence, racking up a body count until Angel had to take him out of the game, because he had abandonment issues? He was as bad as Penn, but Angel was damned if he’d lose another childe in the same way.

Quick as a flash he had the blonde by the throat, pinning him against the headboard with one hand. Angel’s features were bestial, fangs extended. The better to eat you with, my dear, he thought, biting down on the younger vampire’s bottom lip and taking a single mouthful of blood. He tasted excitement and desire, thick as cigarette smoke in a twenties nightclub; almost but not quite able to cloak the fear that lay beneath. His favourite flavour. Used to be his favourite flavour. Was, was… oh, for god’s sake he’d missed it. He wanted to make the younger vampire afraid of him, maybe it would be enough to get the fact he was serious through that bleach doused brain of his. Maybe, just maybe it would be enough to save him.

When he broke away he knew that a display of power was only half of what was required here. There was a challenge in the other’s eyes, a mixture of pride and expectation which couldn’t go unanswered, and keeping Spike pinned by the throat he raised his other wrist to his fangs and bit down, opening up an artery and holding the wound to the other’s lips.

Spike was no new-born this time around, and he knew the rules. Biting down meant that he wished to venture out on his own, and the fact that his fangs were out meant that he was considering it, but to Angel’s relief the younger vampire’s featured shifted, becoming human, blue eyes staring provocatively as he pressed his lips to the older vampire’s wrist, drinking with clear enjoyment. Angel indulged him, loosening the grip around the slender throat so allow him to drink more deeply. It was the second time that he’d been drunk from in as many days, but it was so clearly an act of deference that his usual anxieties surrounding being fed from were soothed, and he could have watched Spike for hours, were it not for the desire to complete the ritual and wrap the whole thing up in ceremony, and reluctantly he peeled the other man from his wrist.

“You don’t belong to yourself anymore” he said, in a low, intense whisper “I am your sire, and you answer to me now”

Spike swallowed thickly, and licked his blood smeared lips, looking hazy. “Lucky me, eh?” he replied with a throaty chuckle, a sign of contentment rather than scorn.


	11. Chapter 11

Well… that was a turn up for the books, Spike thought, when he first woke up. If it hadn’t been for the fact that tall, dark and brooding was sleeping beside him he might have thought that he’d dreamt it, but the cool arm slung around him was reassuringly solid.

He was right, the blond thought. You really are fucking stupid. He wasn’t sure what the currency conversion between souled and unsouled vampiric relationships was, but they couldn’t be that different. ‘You don’t belong to yourself anymore’….. ‘its complicated’ on facebook didn’t even touch the sides of this one. How much protocol and service had he signed himself up for? What did a moody, sexually repressed, overly self-righteous closet case even want with a childe? Whips and chains probably sent him into the sort of guilt spiral which would require years of therapy and high dosage medication. Spike didn’t know what prospect worried him more; the fact that Angel would take it too far, or not far enough.

Screw it, he told himself. He needed someone to be accountable to  right now. Someone to keep him, if not on the straight and narrow, then away from murder and mayhem. And whatever combination of twelve step abstinence programme and iron dictatorship that Angel was offering, it had to be better than the alternative. Especially if sire’s blood and violent sexcapades were being thrown into the bargain.

I wonder if we would have fucked if I wasn’t at risk of serious bodily injury, he thought. Was it even possible for them to fuck without risk of serious bodily injury? Hell, was it possible for them to fuck without risk of mass murder and destruction of ‘bringing about hell on earth’ sort of scale? He’d only heard what it took to unleash Angel’s inner psychopath second hand, but when Willow spoke about ‘a moment of perfect happiness’ it was with the sort of awkward, school girl shyness and feet gazing that he was pretty sure that he understood the mystic euphemisms at work there.

The arm around him tensed ever so slightly, and Spike knew that the vampire behind him was awake. “Just so we’re both on the same page…If you’ve woken up hating yourself then I’m out of here, and if you want to come after me with a stake then catch me if you fucking can, right?” He said. Managed to make it sound casual too, go him.

“Spike… there’s blood in the refrigerator. No, its not human, and if I hear a word of complaint about it you’ll be going without. Heat it on the stove. Slowly, without letting it boil. Pans are hung up, you’ll see them when you go in. There are cups on the draining board, and if you value your arse then you’ll manage to get them to point A to point B without spilling, chipping, or otherwise causing destruction to my property. Go on.”

The voice behind his ear was firm, if slightly sleepy, and Spike blinked. “Okay then” he said simply, swinging his legs onto the floor far more easily than he would have been able to the night before.


	12. Chapter 12

The truth was he’d been awake longer than Spike, lying there trying to work out what exactly he had gotten into. Had Spike purposefully been goading him into this? The little shit had learned –had been taught, he corrected himself, begrudgingly- to be quite manipulative, and pursing his lips and calling him daddy was the sort of thing that Spike could pass off as banter, but that was classic Spike behaviour; learning early on to cover up the things that mattered to him, lest they be taken away… another thing Angel had to take responsibility for.

He was pretty sure that with every defiantly snapped ‘You’re not my sire’ had been a cry for help. That he’d managed to remain blind to that for so long seemed ridiculous to him now…. There was a time when he would saw it a mile off, recognised it as an attempt to get his attention. At least he hoped that was what it was. There was a slim chance that Spike was just looking after his neck and would leave at the first opportunity, if he’d read things entirely wrong. The more that he thought about it the more likely the possibility seemed and he was just sitting up to go and see whether Spike had simply headed for the front door when Spike emerged through the door, cups in hand.

“Bloody hell, Angel. S’just a couple of cups of red. Even I can’t fuck that up. Don’t look so surprised” he said, offering out one mug, which Angel took immediately, eager to warm his hands. The blood itself was nothing to write home about, but it was warm and he was hungry, and it would do, which was what he was trying to teach Spike. Spike for his part drained his mug in one long swig, without so much as a peep.

“Good boy” Angel remarked, nodding his head in the direction of the younger vampire’s empty cup.

“It’s not too bad, but it doesn’t come close to what I was drinking last night” Spike replied with a shrug.

Angel sighed. He shouldn’t have commented on it at all, should he? “Spike, you’re not getting more human blood from me. Accept it”

The blond’s eyes danced wickedly “Wasn’t the human stuff I was talking about, stupid”.

“Oh… right” his sire replied, looking slightly bashful. Fuck’s sakes, weren’t they both men of the world? It seemed weird the way Angel looked… like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. It was not an expression he had ever worn in the old days, far as Spike could remember. He wasn’t sure that he liked it at all.

“Having second thoughts?” Spike asked, raising an eyebrow. The tension in the room was sudden and sharp, and it was clear that the wrong answer, or indeed any hesitation on the older vampire’s part would result in a major explosion.


	13. Chapter 13

“Spike…I took a big risk with you last night. It was stupid, and irresponsible, and I could have ended up losing it completely, and you know what that means.  I can’t allow that to happen again. It was a mistake. I’m…sorry. I’m really sorry. You deserve more than I will ever be able to give you. I’ll be here for you while you need it, but not like that. Not again ”

The younger vampire looked down at the floor. Not what he’d expected. He’d expected to be told that he was too much trouble, that he was a terrible reminder of the other’s worst memories and worst mistakes. He expected that the other vampire would be ashamed of him. He cared a lot about what people thought, did Angel. He’d never really expected to be told to get lost because he was a potential cause of perfect happiness. Or even imperfect happiness.

“Fuck this” Spike growled. “Fuck you. Fuck your nobility. Fuck your martyrdom. Fuck your fucking masochism, you fucking fuck” the ceramic mug in his hand shattered on the far wall, hard enough to make a heavy dent in the plaster. “I don’t care if you hate yourself. If you think that I deserve better than be better. Try harder. Fight. Don’t just blindly accept it because you think that this is what you’ve earned. What about me? What about ‘you belong to me now’? What about your fucking obligation to me?” He felt like he’d said all this before, but thinking about it, he never had. The last time Angel ran out on him he’d gotten nothing but a letter, and never had a chance to say any of this to his sire’s face. He was screaming a hundred year’s worth of pent up anger, and the words weren’t enough to express even half of it. “I hate you. I fucking hate you so fucking much, Angelus. I hate” he caught the back of the closet and tipped it over “hate, hate, hate…” the bedroom chair went through the mirror, and the explosion of glass shards in his face was nothing to him. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me again, you bastard son of a…wank faced fucking fuck..” there were no tears, just a white hot anger and a litany of increasingly incoherent curses growled through extended fangs, as he punched the wall over and over. Tears would come later, when he was alone, but not now.

Angel, for his part didn’t look up at any of the breaking noises. It was hard enough to hear the younger vampire’s explosion, he didn’t want to watch it as well. Then something broke in him, and he looked up. Not defeated, not resigned. Determined.  “I’ll knock on every mystical door there is…kick every ass, do whatever it is that I have to do. Go through whatever I need to. Whatever it takes. For you...” he shook his head. No, if was going to do this he was going to do it honestly. “No. For me. ”

Spike stopped breaking things. “Or we could call Willow, close personal chum and most powerful witch on our plane of existence” he said, looking at Angel as though he were the stupidest cretin that ever existed.

“Or…that” his sire replied.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Why hadn’t he thought of that before now, Angel thought, slightly incredulous at his own short-sightedness. Sure, it might have had a little to do with the fact that he tended to think of Willow as a socially awkward little girl that she had been when he’d first gotten to know her, but on the whole he thought that Spike was right. He had so many contacts with magical or mystic abilities and he hadn’t asked any of them if they had any experience in the soul binding department. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that if Spike had managed to a soul for himself without any strings or fine print then the same might be possible for him. Because that was how he thought of himself; cursed, only able to achieve redemption when he’d really earned it, and deserved it.

Spike parked down next to him, and as though he had read his mind the younger vampire rested his head on Angel’s shoulder. “Do you want to be with me?” he asked, flat out. He’d always had a gift for reducing things down to their most simple components.

Angel said nothing for a long time and it wasn’t until he felt the mattress shift beneath him, as the blond began to stand did he reply. “Yes but it’s never going to be as simple as that”

“Course it will be. Unless…” Spike’s eyes narrowed “You don’t want to give up on the idea that one day, no matter how hard you try, someone’s going to come along and take away the burden of playing the white knight. You’re a bit in love with that idea, aren’t you? It’s not just martyrdom, its the hope that one day someone will set you free, and you can finally have some peace..”

“That’s not true” he said instinctively. He didn’t think it was. At least he hoped it wasn’t. But it did make sense, in a twisted way.

“Prove it” Spike said, with a shrug of his shoulder, then got up and left, leaving Angel alone and entirely convinced that he’d just been played like a penny whistle. Which, given that he was the one who taught the younger vampire most of what he knew about manipulation, made him almost proud.


End file.
